Badger Heart, Badger Claws
by Hestia01
Summary: A student begins school at the same time as Harry Potter. What are the other houses up to while he's busy saving everyone? I'm bad at summaries, please have a look. This one's for my Hufflepuff crew
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, as should be self-evident. I simply hope to borrow the scenery and a few characters, have them do what I will for a bit, and I promise to put them back when I'm done. **

**For entertainment purposes only, void where prohibited, side-effects may include nausea, dizziness, and compulsive singing. Discontinue use if a rash develops as this may be a sign of a serious complication. See your doctor if any of this makes the remotest amount of sense!**

The doorbell rang and footsteps from inside were heard. A woman's face briefly appeared in the little window behind the curtain, peering out at the visitor. Cautiously, she opens the door to a strangely-dressed woman holding what appears to be sheets of parchment. She regards the visitor suspiciously, "So what are you selling?"

"I'm not selling anything. Mrs. Stand, is it?"

"That's right."

"I'm here to tell you about a school for your daughter, Caitlin. She's starting secondary school in the fall, correct?"

Mrs. Stand nods, still not budging, "That's right."

"I'm Professor Charity Burbage. I believe your daughter may have the abilities our school particularly seeks. Surely, you've noticed."

At this, Mrs. Stand steps aside, drawing the visitor in, away from the neighbors' prying eyes. This is not something she feels comfortable discussing on the front steps where the whole world can listen in. "I've noticed," she admits softly. "Are you saying there are...others...like her?"

With a sage nod, the other woman smiles, "Many others, there are thousands who can do what she does. There's nothing wrong with Caitlin, Mrs. Stand. She has a place at our school, should she wish to come. Is she home?"

"Oh, yes," she turns and calls over her shoulder, "Caitlin! There's someone here to see you!"

A moment later a short, skinny little girl with very short brown hair creeps down the stairs, looking frightened and guilty. "I didn't do anything today, Mum," she promised contritely.

Professor Burbage intuitively knew the girl spoke of doing magic. She felt a stab of sympathy, remembering how difficult it is to contain as a child. "It's all right, Caitlin, you're not in any trouble." The girl stands stiffly, as though unaccustomed to this being the case.

"Stop acting like that, Caitlin, or the lady will think we mistreat you! How is this going to make me and your father look?" Mrs. Stand turns to the other woman, "I promise, we never raise a hand against her, I don't know why she acts like she expects someone to hit her."

"Her classmates, most likely. I've seen cases of this before." She kneels down in front of the frightened girl, "They treat you badly at school, don't they? They're afraid of you?" The girl nods, trying not to cry. "Do they hit you?"

Caitlin nods again, sniffling shakily, "Only in gym class, when they can get away with it, if they can make it look like part of the game. Dodgeball, Red Rover, roller skating..." she trails off with a shudder and presses into the wall behind her.

Her mother turns to her, surprised, "I never knew that, why didn't you say something?"

"Doesn't matter, it wouldn't change anything, it would only get worse if I got them in trouble."

Both women stare at the girl, equally surprised by Caitlin's matter-of-fact delivery of such things, and angered by what's happened to her.

"They don't always hit, but they treat me different, no one likes me, I'm a freak."

As the Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage is used to looking at things from all sides and to understanding the Muggle's perspective, but she still can't help the knee-jerk disgust she feels at how Muggles treat their magical neighbors. She allows that yes, they may be perceived as strange, but this little girl certainly isn't a threat to anyone. "You're not a freak, Caitlin," Charity assures her. "You can...do things, can't you? Things happen around you and you can't always help it, right?"

The girl nods, still cringing in this admission, "One time when I was six, a car was coming, but it went right through me, I didn't get hurt or feel anything."

"Anything else?"

Her mother speaks up, "The rain. That was you, too, wasn't it? When it rains just over our house?" Caitlin nods again, too frightened to speak.

Professor Burbage straightens up, places her hands on Caitlin's shoulders and gives her a kind smile. She steers her near the couch where Mrs. Stand is seated. "You're not a freak. As a matter of fact, you're a lot like me."

The girl's eyes go wide and her tearful expression disappears. "You're like me?" she whispers hopefully. "Really?"

"And as I just told your mother, it's perfectly normal. There's nothing bad about it at all. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You're just a little different. A little...special," she suggests, feeling that such an idea won't go to the child's head. "It's very simple, Caitlin, you're a witch."

The girl gasps and brings her hands to her mouth. For a second, Professor Burbage hopes she isn't insulted. It's easy to forget that "witch" is often used in a very negative way in this world. But then Caitlin breaks into a hysterical laugh. "Really? A real witch? I am?" She looks positively delighted.

Glad for such a positive reaction, Charity continues, "And there's a place for you at a school for witches and wizards."

"There's more? More like me? They wouldn't be afraid of me?! Oh, Mum, can I go? Please?! I'll be just like Miss Price!" she spins in place in rapture.

"Like...who?" the older witch asks the mother.

"She's from a movie, Caitlin's seen it about a hundred times by now. A witch learns magic through a correspondence course and...saves England somehow, during World War II."

"Sounds like she's had some positive role models, that's good, that helps."

"You know, I think somehow she always knew what she was," Mrs. Stand observes. "How much is tuition?"

"Hogwarts, our school, is funded by donations from alumni and other like benefactors, you won't need to pay for her education. She'll need to buy her own uniform, books, and equipment. It's all in here," she hands the mother a letter and beckons the child to sit down with her so they could read it together. Caitlin wriggles in her seat with excitement, unable to sit still while receiving such wonderful news.

"I can come with you both to show you were to purchase her school supplies. And you'll need to know how to get to the school train in September. Your ticket is here, don't lose it."

Together, they go over everything, from getting to Diagon Alley to getting on the train, from the currency exchange rate to new words she'll have to learn and get used to. With that, they prepare to go to London to do some shopping.

HP HP HP HP HP HP

After an exhilarating day, the young witch and her mother arrive home laden with strange new things. The girl runs upstairs with her shopping to try on her new uniform right away. She'd met a handful of other Hogwarts students in Diagon Alley as well; some looked at her scornfully after finding out she's a Muggle-born, with others it obviously didn't matter to them what her parentage was. A few older students had watched her scurry from one shop to another, looking on with nostalgia about being that excited for the first day of school. Now back at home, she is pleased with everything. After letting her new kitten out of his basket to explore, she empties the rest of her packages. She handles her new wand with utmost care: apple wood, with a core of phoenix feather, she holds the memory of it choosing her in her heart with sheer reverence. Despite the school rule forbidding first years to have their own broomsticks, it hadn't stopped Caitlin from popping into Quality Quidditch Supplies for a look. She even tested one out, sliding onto an older model sidesaddle, noting aloud that a witch must always be a lady, getting an amused look from the shopkeeper. Her mother made a mental note for a possible birthday present for next year.

Her mother peeks in the room, now feeling a mixture of happy and sad. Happy that there's a place for her misfit daughter, with others like her, where she may not have to be afraid anymore; but sad that she's entering such a new and separate world. She'd always known that her daughter was different, but never suspected she would turn out to be this different. She had gotten the feeling throughout the day that she will never again fully understand her daughter, with this new life she's starting. Afraid she'll slip away...

"Mum, look! This is so cool!" Caitlin cries, twirling around, still modeling her school uniform.

"I'm sure the novelty will wear off once school starts. Something tells me it's not going to be easy. You can show your father when he gets home, you can help him understand. Hopefully," she adds.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Soon enough, the summer draws to a close, and Caitlin and her parents are at King's Cross with her luggage on a trolley. A ginger tabby kitten mews in his basket as he's wheeled in on top of the trunk. "Aw, poor Baby Buttons, we'll be there soon enough and then you're going to make so many new friends!" Caitlin promises her new pet. He'd taken to her the moment she saw him in the shop. She'd reached in her hand between the bars of his kennel and he'd butted his head right in for his ears to be scratched. Certainly the start of a beautiful friendship. They follow the instructions that Professor Burbage had given them to get her to the platform, she hugs her parents goodbye and prepares to charge at the barrier.

"Write whenever you can!" Her mother calls.

"See you at Christmas," adds her father, putting an arm around his wife as they both look a bit misty. Seconds later, they see their daughter vanish through the wall. Pausing a moment to gather themselves, they head back out to the car and drive home.

Meanwhile, Caitlin is wheeling in to Platform 9 ¾, looking awestruck all around her. She never would have imagined there would be so many people, so many kids, "like her". Hastily moving away from the wall to make room for the next arrivals, she goes up the train to look for a free compartment. It's a good thing she left when she did; out of the corner of her eye she sees a whole gaggle of redheads all popping out one after the other, and a boy about her own age with dark hair and glasses. Without a second look she heaves her trunk in and sets her cat's basket on the seat next to her. She looks out at the clock, it's almost 11, just about time for them to be off. There's a sensation of butterflies in her stomach as she thinks of what she's heading to. Without wasting a second, she changes into her school robes. Then Caitlin rummages around at the bottom of her trunk for the wizarding coins that were left from her school shopping trip. Stuffing the coins in her pocket, she closes her trunk and tucks it out of the way. It's then that the door slides open and three girls enter. Instinctively, Caitlin cringes back, scooting into the farthest corner of the compartment. At school, it had always been in her best interest to stay out of the way whenever possible. Two of the girls look at her with raised eyebrows.

"Hey, what's your problem?" One of them demands as she sits down in the seat across.

"N-nothing."

The second girl slides in next to the first, looking at her curiously, with a touch of sympathy now. The third sits right next to Caitlin, "Hi, I'm Susan. What's your name?"

"Caitlin," she whispers, looking at her feet. "Sorry," she gasps habitually.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?" Susan asks.

"I dunno, being in the way? I don't know, I'm just..." Caitlin trails off, still not looking at any of her traveling companions.

By now Susan can tell that Caitlin must be so accustomed to being bullied that she expects it by default. "Hey, I don't bite. You're not in anyone's way." She turns to the other two girls, "Guys, she's scared."

"It's my first day, too, but I'm not acting like a little freak," the first girl snips, her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Get her to snap out of it, she's creeping me out."

"There's plenty of room in the other compartments, if it's that much trouble for you."

Scowling at the rest of them, the first girl leaves with her nose in the air. "Probably a Mudblood," she mutters disdainfully.

The other remaining girl takes out a book to read, unconcerned. Privately, she hopes Caitlin will grow a backbone. That's no way to go through life.

Susan goes back to her attempt at making friends with someone who may have never had one before. "Did they hurt you?" Caitlin nods. "Muggles?" Another nod and a murmured assent. "Your parents?"

"No! No, not them, they...didn't know. I didn't tell them. I didn't want them to worry. If I tattled on the ones who did it, it would only have gotten worse. So much worse."

"At school," Susan assesses. "Why?"

Caitlin gives a loud sniff, "Cuz I'm a freak. They all hate me. Because...because I'm a witch." She whispers the last word.

"They knew? Muggles aren't supposed to know-"

"They didn't really know, they all called me that, though. Because I like magic and those kind of stories. But they all told me it was all just make-believe, and only dumb kids got into that stuff when they're older than seven or eight. They were horrible to me. Call me names, trip me, gang up on me in gym class, take my stuff...I'd always wished witches were real and good and like regular people."

Susan giggles in spite of her woebegone companion, "Well, we are. I guess they have to think we're just made up or they'd come looking for us, wouldn't they? Caitlin, it's true, there are lots of us, and you're one, too. I'm sorry kids at home were so mean to you, but you don't have to worry about them anymore."

The other girl peers over her book. She'd grown up in a primarily magical neighborhood, and had been homeschooled up until she was old enough to start at Hogwarts. Her parents taught her that it's wrong to make sport of Muggles just because they were different; they're all people after all. She'd never considered that Muggles would give a magical child hell for being a witch, or even just showing interest in those types of subjects. _Poor kid,_ she thinks with a short sigh.

"You know, I think things are going to get a lot better for you now," Susan supposes. "Want to be friends?"

This suggestion was just as mind-blowing as the revelation that she was a witch. Her eyes go wide and she nods and inches out of her corner of the compartment. Then, the basket between them rattles and mews, demanding attention. "Oh, Baby Buttons, I forgot! I was going to let you out of there once we were off!" Caitlin cries, opening the lid and scooping up her kitten. Petting him consolingly, she coos over him in a motherly way. "We're going on a trip, Mister B, we're going to...someplace better, I hope. This is Susan, she wants to be friends, too!" She holds her cat out for her new friend to greet properly, the beginnings of a shaky smile twitch her face. "I'm...sorry I'm so...weird, I just—I never—I..."

"You've never been friends with anyone?"

Turning her attention back to her kitten, she admits, "Never for long, they usually moved away, or got convinced by the others not to be friends with me."

Baby Buttons crawls over to Susan's lap, getting a delighted smile out of her. "I like your cat, he's such a pretty kitty."

"I always wanted a cat, my parents wouldn't let me have one before because they didn't think I could handle the responsibility. When it said in my letter that I'd be allowed to have a pet, they figured it would be a good time to try it. They said at the pet shop that he's big enough to start hunting for himself. Think there'll be mice for him to catch?"

"Well, Hogwarts is a big, old castle, I bet there are. If not, I'm sure you can buy food for him or just feed him table scraps if he lacks the killer instinct. I love cats, but mum's allergic."

"I think boy cats are friendlier than girl cats. From the ones I saw at the shop, anyway."

From behind her book, the other girl smiles to herself, pleased that these two are making friends so easily, when it obviously wasn't something that Caitlin was used to. _Good thing she has a cat, they give people plenty to talk about._

In a few minutes, the door slides open, and a cheerful looking woman stands before them and asks if they'd like something from the trolley.

Clutching her money tightly, Caitlin stands up, amazed by the variety of treats that she sees. "How much is all this?"

"You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?" the trolley lady whispers confidentially. Caitlin nods, now apprehensive. "Let's see how much you have." Caitlin opens her hand and reveals a mass of sweat-covered gold, silver, and bronze. "Hmm, four galleons, six sickles, ten knuts. You could buy me out," she laughs, kindly exaggerating. Caitlin's expression brightens and she selects cauldron cakes, pumpkin pasties, and pumpkin juice for her and her compartmentmates.

She returns and doles out the goodies, looking a little shy with the girl who is still a stranger to her. "Oh, you didn't have to do that. I'm not even in your year. My name's Katie Bell, I'm a Gryffindor second year." When she sees how wrong-footed this makes Caitlin look, she accepts her offer. "Thank you, though."

A relieved smile springs onto her face as Caitlin sits with her friend once more. "I've never had any of this before. I didn't even know you could juice a pumpkin."

"I have it all the time at home, it's my favorite. Dad says it's good for me, but I don't let that stop me," Susan jokes.

"It's real, it's all really real! I'm going to school to become a witch! This is the best day of my life!" Caitlin laughs with manic glee.

The train chugs onward, the landscape changing as they go. There's so much to see out the windows that there's not much need to talk. They pass by woods and fields, and soon the sun starts to creep down to meet the horizon. Soon, a rough voice is heard from the corridor. "Firs' years! Firs' years, follow me!" All of the youngest students scramble out obediently. Caitlin bites back a shriek when she sees the owner of the voice. She'd never seen or even imagined such a huge, wild-looking man as this! And they were meant to follow him? Still, she allowed this man to lead her off the train and to a small fleet of boats. She caught up with Susan and got in the boat with her and two boys. The boats shoved off, steering themselves for their first look at their new school and home. The sight of the castle was spectacular, silhouetted strikingly in the moonlight. They reached their stopping point and entered the castle, all of them feeling a sudden rush of nerves.

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Caitlin watches the Sorting with interest, peering over the sea of tall pointed hats. Her friend Susan is put in Hufflepuff House, definitely the silliest-sounding name of them all, but from what the Sorting Hat had told in its song, it certainly sounded like the best one to be in. She'd never imagined a place where fair play and over-all goodness was so valued. As each student is assigned a House, they get a round of applause from the school at large, especially from the House that the child was placed in. One boy in particular gets an unusually loud and prolonged applause as his House is declared. She wonders who he is, she's certain he's the same kid she saw on the platform that morning. Others are pointing at him and whispering, making her wonder what all the fuss is about. "That's Harry Potter! _The _Harry Potter! Wow, it's really him!" she hears from all corners of the Hall. Remembering how many of her nastier classmates tended to get made much of like this back home, her lip curls in an involuntary sneer. Whoever he is, she's not impressed. No one that young needs to be treated like a celebrity. Before long, Caitlin's name is called to try on the school's Sorting Hat, it falls over her eyes and a voice speaks in her ear.

"Hmm, very interesting. Pure of heart, values fairness, but what's this? A thirst for vengeance? Curious combination. Your innocence masks a bitter and unforgiving anger. Slytherin would help you get revenge, to show your enemies what you're really made of, but then again...Moreso than vengeance you crave acceptance and justice. Well, which is it?"

She sits up there for a long time as the hat debates her fate, she doesn't know enough about either house to put in a word of preference. The older students already seated whisper among each other. There hadn't been a Hatstall at Hogwarts for a few years, and they're always a curiosity. A few look at their watches, fifteen seconds to go.

"-better be Hufflepuff!" the hat cries and Caitlin takes her seat next to Susan, who looks happy and relieved.

"We thought you were going to be a Hatstall," Susan tells her, "It sure took long with you."

"What's that mean?"

"Someone who takes over a minute for the hat to decide. Where else was it thinking of putting you?"

"Slytherin," Caitlin answers, giving the other long table a look. She sees a lot of sneering, unpleasant faces along it, part of her is glad to be among friendlier-looking fellows. Still...might they have helped her get back at her tormentors?

A fourth year Hufflepuff boy catches their conversation and interjects, "Trust me, you're better off here. That lot would sell out their supposed friends the second the opportunity struck. If it was worth their while. Funny it was stuck between them and us. You won't find two more dissimilar Houses."

Their conversation is interrupted as Professor Dumbledore calls their attention. With a few well-chosen words, the start of term feast begins. Caitlin forgets all about houses and their reputations as the food magically appears in front of them. "Where does all of this come from?"

Again, the fourth year boy answers, "Down in the kitchens. Over a hundred house elves live down there, they do the cooking and tidying up for the castle. They send the food up by magic and it appears on our tables. That's another reason it's good to be a Hufflepuff; our common room is right next to the school kitchens and some of us are friendly with the house elves who do the cooking. If they know it's your birthday, they'll send up something special for you."

"House elves? Like the shoemaker's elves?" Caitlin asks, entranced.

While the students from wizarding homes looked at her quizzically, a Muggle-born second year affirms. "Something like that."

"It's all real, it's really real!" Caitlin says to herself again.

The second year girl smiles and feels the need to introduce herself, "I'm Lizzie Roberts. It takes some getting used to, doesn't it? It'll all feel normal soon enough."

Caitlin agrees, giving her name in return. As she eats, she imagines how many elves must be living right under their feet, cooking away to make this marvelous feast. And they get to live right next to them, maybe she'd sneak out one night and go visit them! She feels like some wild animal that had been raised in a zoo all her life finally returned to her natural habitat. Everything she'd ever hoped for and was fascinated by was real and it was here. She wished her parents could see her now, and made a mental note to write to them as soon as she could.

"Can we write letters home?"

Lizzie makes an upward gesture with her fork, "Sure," she mumbles with her mouth full. "The owlery is right out that way. That's where the post owls live. Any student can use them. Just tell it where you want it delivered and it'll get there."

"Even to Muggles?"

"You'll have to give the full address the first time, but these owls are smart, they'll remember. Perfect sense of direction. My parents still aren't used to getting letters that way. They're glad I write, but Dad says it gives Mum a fright every time," she adds with a grin.

Desserts appear next, making Caitlin wish she hadn't eaten so much already, still she finds room for some apple pie. When these, too, fade away, their attention is called back to the Head Table where announcements are given before they're sent off to bed. Prefects lead the way to their common room, teaching the newcomers to tap the right rhythm on the right barrel to be let in.

"It's how we keep the other houses out. Ours might seem the simplest to get into, since there isn't a password, but our common room has never been seen by an outsider," the prefect tells them with a touch of pride. He leads them in and Caitlin's eyes go wide yet again. It's the most beautiful room she could have imagined! All polished wood and brass and copper, even in the nighttime it shone like the sun. A cozy fire crackled away amid comfortable-looking chairs and sofa; banners and hangings of bold yellow and black, numerous potted plants were situated among it all. It looks like a snug, winding burrow with perfectly round doorways and passages. All over the place are images of badgers: carved, embroidered, burned into wood...

"I'm Cedric, by the way," the boy she'd spoken to earlier tells her.

She giggles a little, nervously, "Sorry, but that's kind of a funny name. What's with all the badgers in here?"

"It's our House symbol. We don't start a fight but we'll finish one," he tells her with a grin.

"They're beautiful."

"They might look cute and fuzzy, but they're fierce when they need to be. Like us," Cedric adds. "Go on to the girls' dormitory, it's late. Classes start bright and early."

Caitlin goes to her dorm and finds her things already had been brought in and laid out for her. Her kitten had even been tended to, she finds a litter box and dishes filled with cat food and water for him. Baby Buttons is snoozing comfortably at the foot of her bed, awaiting the return of his mistress. As she gets into bed, though, she's struck with unease. The Sorting Hat had found Slytherin values in her, did she really belong in this sunshiney room, with friendly and fair people? They were like no one she'd ever met before. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that as much as she desired them, she knows nothing of such things as this House represents. Perhaps the Sorting Hat had made a mistake... Perhaps it is in the underhanded underworld of lies and deceit that she would be more at home. She certainly has more familiarity with those sorts of things. Honesty, goodness, while attractive, were entirely foreign. She creeps out of bed, getting a startled _prrt!_ sound from her alarmed cat, and she goes back to the common area where she finds Cedric still up. Before he can say anything against her being up again she requests quietly, "I need to talk to someone, a teacher I think."

"Why?"

"I don't know if the Sorting Hat chose right for me. Who can I talk to?"

Cedric thinks for a moment before sighing, "Follow me." She obeys, trotting after him as they wind around the halls, until they reach the teacher's lounge. He finds both Professor Snape and Professor Sprout getting their lesson plans in order for the next day. "Excuse me, Professors, but Miss Stand is worried she may have been put in the wrong House."

"Oh, really?" Professor Sprout asks, "You were put in Hufflepuff, but where else did it consider putting you?"

"Slytherin," she answers, making Professor Snape flinch. He'd seen his share of Sortings in his time, and it seemed every year there was a smattering of students who initially felt at odds with the House that was selected for them, but the choice between Hufflepuff and Slytherin always seemed quite clear-cut. No room for debate, you're either one or the other. These two Houses hosted no similarities between their core values. He looks at her steadily, his eyes boring into hers, giving her the feeling that she's being scanned.

"Yes, that is strange. A most unusual combination. If you don't mind, Pomona, I will speak with her." Professor Sprout nods and leaves the room with Cedric, to give them a private interview.

Professor Snape regards her oddly; he'd never really thought much of Hufflepuffs. He'd always preferred his own Slytherin students, naturally. Next, the Ravenclaws, at least they showed some desire to prove themselves and to learn. Gryffindors he despised on principle. A load of swaggering, arrogant bullies who felt the world owed them everything. But he honestly had to say that he'd never really considered Hufflepuffs that strongly. They hardly ever won the House Cup, they were too busy playing fair and being nauseatingly cheerful. Yet here was a child torn between that and his own House. He looks through her, scanning her thoughts, touching on memories. _There, that's what the Sorting Hat saw, and recognized as Slytherin._

"They hurt you. That's what fuels your desire for revenge." It's a statement, not a question. _Yet she remains pure of heart. She still trusts, still craves fairness and acceptance, and that's how they keep hurting her. Lord, they get her where she lives_, Snape groans inwardly. It had taken hateful remarks and actions to twist someone who would be inherently good and kind into someone who knows only lies and trickery, and expects nothing else. She lacked the cunning of the serpent, but her experience had been nearly enough to tip the scales.

"Yes, sir," she confirms needlessly.

"You wouldn't last in Slytherin," he tells her honestly, adopting a harsh tone to keep his stirring sympathies in check. "Oh, you'd learn, you might even thrive...but you...would no longer be you. What the Sorting Hat recognized as Slytherin marks was your pain, which is the cause of your anger and your desire for cold, sweet revenge. Take my advice," he whispers, "Don't heed the pain, or the ones who inflicted it upon you will have ultimately won. Your best revenge right now is to rise above it. You're no Slytherin. Go back to Hufflepuff, soak up all their goody two-shoes business they can dish out, you need it. You _need_ it." He'd never admit it to anyone, least of all this child, but he saw himself in her. The cringing demeanor, anticipating the next blow, she could easily share his fate. A hate-filled, angry person with no understanding or use for compassion. "Do you understand?"

Caitlin nods, somehow able to understand that beneath his biting tone he's trying to save her. "There's something else I'm afraid of."

"What's that?"

"What if I hate Muggles?"

Snape sighs, "Your parents are Muggles, aren't they?" She nods. "Do you hate them?" Still silent, she shakes her head. "The people you hate, is it because they're Muggles, or is it because of the way they treated you?"

"Cuz of how they treated me," she murmurs.

"If the people who were cruel to you had been witches and wizards, would you hate them just the same?" She nods, looking increasingly upset. "Don't give in to the pain!" he barks sharply as he sees her eyes cloud over in an unhappy memory. "Hate is useless, it only hurts the one who wields it. You have a right to be angry, even sad, but don't wallow in it. Have some dignity for gods' sakes! You're a witch!"

Then she makes a striking observation, "They hurt you, too, didn't they?" Snape's eyes flash in anger, his lip curls into a snarl, but he doesn't deny it. He never would have imagined admitting such a thing, to a child of all people—a Hufflepuff child! Caitlin cocks her head curiously, "I'm sorry." She gets up to leave, feeling her dilemma was over, and much more comfortable with the Sorting Hat's decision. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

"What for?" he spits.

"For being nice to me. You really helped. I feel a lot better." And she leaves with a smile on her face and a song on her lips. Snape sits staring after her, stunned. He'd just been offered genuine sympathy, gratitude, and kindness in turn, something he'd never had since...happier times. _Strange child,_ he ponders. As the door closes behind her he sits silently, shell-shocked. He'd just given a first year student a pep-talk, tried to rouse up a sense of self-worth. Why? Why had he done this instead of scaring her off or tossing her aside? He looks back at the door. Why didn't he do this for more students? When he'd pierced her memory, felt her pain, he'd found something else there that had unsettled him...bloodlust. Slytherin House would have played right into it and destroyed her. If anyone needed the sunshine and happiness exuded by the silly Hufflepuffs, it was this girl, who'd probably never heard a kind word from her peers in her life. Her anger is great, and deep for someone so young. There is darkness lurking within that trusting heart. Snape hopes that her cure isn't too late in coming. The other students would have no idea that she arrived close to the snapping point. She'd already had enough and was ready to crack at the next person to pull a prank on her or give a smart remark. He has hope that her new surroundings and classmates might help quell the storm before it comes to a head. He's seen anger like Caitlin's, he'd borne it himself in a similar time in his life, and he knows first-hand that the destruction it wreaks can be widespread and incurable.

Cedric and Professor Sprout are waiting in the hall to be called in when Caitlin skips past them happily. "He thinks I'd do better in Hufflepuff," she tells them simply. "I think he's right." With that business over, Professor Sprout gives her a nod and a pat on the shoulder. "If anything like this bothers you again, feel free to track me down. My door is always open." Assured that the girl already looks better, she goes back to her lesson plans.

As Cedric leads her back to their common room, he studies her. "That was it? He said you'd do better with us, and that's it?"

"Well, mostly. He said Slytherin would help me get back at the people who hurt me, but then I wouldn't be me anymore. I'd lose myself. I was afraid, though, that I wouldn't be a good Hufflepuff because I don't know about all that honesty and loyalty stuff the hat talked about. I know what the words mean, of course, and that they're good, but..."

And then Cedric can see how the Sorting Hat was torn between the two houses. It recognized her desire for loyalty and fairness, but she had no understanding of such concepts. She could have easily been twisted into a model Slytherin, morally bankrupt as she was made by her young experiences. Someone who craves kindness but knows only cruelty and deception will not know how to be kind at first. To someone so unfamiliar, she would take it as sarcasm or mocking, and then self-destructively drive potential friends away. She has a lot to learn and to unlearn. "You'll have help. We get kids here all the time who've been mistreated. It'll take time, but you'll do all right. I think the hat chose right for you, too. Funny that Snape would talk you out of Slytherin, though."

Back in the teacher's lounge, Professor Snape tells Professor Sprout his concerns for Caitlin Stand. Professor Sprout looks troubled, "I'll keep an eye on her," she promises. "I think it's a good match for her, though. She has a lot to learn, I hope she can before she does herself a mischief. Poor child."

"I think we got her in time, Pomona. She is still young, pliable. She would do well with some involvement," Snape suggests. "Find a group for her to join, even just collecting Chocolate Frog cards."

Professor Sprout is surprised that Snape is taking such an interest in the girl, but agrees with his suggestion. "You're right. If she has something in common with other classmates, and feels accepted, that would help immensely. She'll be shy at first, but hopefully we can coax her out. Charity told me that Miss Stand has had positive magical role models in her upbringing, clearly fictional, but still better than nothing. She may improve just with finding a class she likes. Being good at something, or at least enjoying the subject can do wonderful things for one's self esteem."

Caitlin crawls in through the barrel after Cedric and she hops to her feet, already feeling at home in this strange new place. She thanks Cedric and goes back off to bed, thinking of her recent interview with Professor Snape. Baby Buttons crawls up and cuddles under her chin, purring contentedly. She pets him idly, her mind still on the Potions master. _He'd been hurt, too. Maybe that's why he was put in Slytherin. He let the hurt take over him. That's sad._


	2. A Badger and a Serpent

The next morning, classes began. After breakfast, their schedules were handed out and read over. To her absolute delight and everyone else's dismay their first class was Potions with Ravenclaw. Caitlin felt her heart become light as she anticipated seeing Professor Snape again. She wondered what kind of a teacher he was. Already, it had become obvious that he had a foul reputation, with a penchant for favoring his own students and bullying the rest. This didn't sound like the man who'd striven so hard to help her last night. Down to the dungeons they went, Caitlin selected a spot front and center, not wanting to miss anything. She set her cauldron over the burner, had her books and ingredients out, wand and quill close at hand, and plenty of parchment for notes. Snape swishes into the dungeon, his cloak rippling behind him. The majority of the class had not yet come to order, in particular a Ravenclaw girl was seen making stupid faces at the Hufflepuff students. "Durr, I'm a Hufflepuff," she mocks in an exaggerated drawl, then switches to her normal voice, sharp and nasal, "I would've left, wouldn't you?" she asks a student next to her, who giggles appreciatively.

"Silence!" Snape calls abruptly. He looks at the register and finds the offender's name."You there, Miss...Jane Hubert..." he glides over to her desk. "Ravenclaw?" She nods with a proud grin. "Ah yes, the smart House. I bet you've read through your books over the summer, so as to be well prepared?"

"Well, not _all_ of them, but..." she bats her eyes in false modesty.

"But enough, I suspect. Perhaps you could help me with one of my potions, as a demonstration for the rest of the class?"

"Oh, yes, Professor!" Miss Hubert cried out, eager to show off.

Snape holds out a small beaker of a greyish green liquid. "Here, powdered root of asphodel infused in wormwood. Taste it for me and see if I got it right." The girl takes it from him, smells the concoction with feigned appreciation, and prepares to take a sip. He snatches it back, sending droplets of the mixture spraying in a wide semi-circle. "Idiot! You were going to drink it, weren't you? That would've nearly killed you, foolish girl! For future reference, class, potions come in all types, benign and dangerous alike. Don't just drink anything that's offered to you. Only an utter lackwit would be dense enough to do that! Ten points from Ravenclaw!" He sets the beaker down sharply and the class falls silent. Miss Hubert shrinks back, mortified and sufficiently frightened.

They begin brewing a simple cure for boils, the usual introductory lesson. Even at its worst, Professor Snape supposes that very little damage can be done with this one. Besides, it's always useful to send up to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey is always grateful when his potions classes can swell her stores a bit. That's one of the things that makes this school self-sustaining. He passes by the students, curling his lip at some of their pitiful attempts. His attention swings to Caitlin's station, drawn by an unfamiliar sound...his grimace grows in irritation, the girl is humming. Badly, and off-key, but happily humming as she makes her first stab at potion-brewing. Professor Snape peeks into her cauldron, where her slugs are stewing away, he sees her turn down the heat, carefully reading each instruction. He circles her like a vulture, she barely registers that he's inspecting her work, so intent is she at stirring in the remaining ingredients properly. Snape takes another loop around the room, away from this happy little amateur. _She's no Slytherin,_ he thinks to himself again as he inspects the other students' cauldrons, finding a few apt pupils among both Houses; others...well, there's time, it's only the first lesson. He throws an occasional look over his shoulder at her, she seems a bit behind, class is almost over. Other students are already clearing up their things and getting ready to leave after he passes judgment on them one by one. Then he hears her cry out as though burned. He whips around, with a rebuke ready at his lips...when he sees it. Caitlin is looking eagerly from the book's description of the final product to the solution which is in her own cauldron.

"I did it!" she cries excitedly.

The other students have all gone by now, leaving her behind. It's just Caitlin and Professor Snape.

"So you have." Hiding his surprise and pleasure behind his usual scowl, he gives her potion a stir, pulls up a ladleful and pours it back out into her cauldron. The color is close enough, it was the right consistency; slow and steady wins the race this time. He pours it off into prepared bottles, barely looking at her. "Take a point for Hufflepuff," he drawls. And with that, he turns his back on her as she clears up and leaves.

Caitlin is practically flying out of the dungeon. Rushing to catch up with the rest of the class which has gathered outside their common room to drop off their cauldrons before their next class, she hails them, rosy-cheeked and elated. "Wasn't that marvelous? Potions is so much fun!"

The others look at her like she's out of her mind. Even Susan looks incredulous. "That was fun? No way! Snape's so creepy."

"He's not as bad as people say. I'm not afraid of him."

Susan shakes her head with an indulging grin. "Whatever you say, Caitlin."

Their next class is Charms, which no one can help but like. Professor Flitwick is the friendliest teacher in the school, and the subject promises to be fun. Unlike Professor Snape, Professor Flitwick doesn't throw them right into it on the first day. He always has the first day of school as a day for introductions and demonstrations. Removed from the feeling of class rivalry in the potions dungeon, the class of Hufflepuffs enjoy themselves and get along well, it almost feels like a party. Caitlin gets a few slight jabs for having a crush on old Snape, but she takes it in stride. There lacks the old malicious tone that she's so used to. It's normal for kids their age to have a crush on their teacher, it's just highly doubtful that Professor Snape has ever had a student admirer. In a way, it makes her look a little braver than the other girls, that she's not afraid of the one teacher who makes everyone else's blood curdle.

Susan Bones was just telling Hannah Abbot about Caitlin's kitten, enrapturing the other girl.

"My parents wouldn't let me bring the family cat, since she's not mine specifically. I'll show you a picture after class," she promised, so that they could see on no uncertain terms that her Domino was the best cat ever. "You're really a Muggle-born? What was that like?"

"To find out I'm a witch? Amazing," Caitlin tells her honestly. "I hope things will be better for me here. My old school...wasn't so good," she adds mildly.

"I heard that Muggles are afraid of magic, that's why we keep to ourselves. That's what my dad said," Hannah says sympathetically. "I think it's really neat that we come from everywhere. Even if they burned every pure-blood at the stake like they used to, we'd still crop up in their own families eventually." This idea, while initially morbid, attracted Susan and Caitlin, pleased that you can't keep a good witch down.

After Charms, they go down to lunch, where again Caitlin is reminded of the army of little house elves that cook for them. She finds tureens of vegetable soup with hot toasted sandwiches along their table, pitchers of milk and pumpkin juice dot every few places to be sure there is enough for all. Caitlin wonders what the house elves look like, if they're happy with their jobs, what else they like to do. Her friends, Susan and Hannah, sit with her and they talk, discussing the differences between their first two classes.

"I don't believe you're not afraid of Professor Snape. Even my older brother was," Hannah announces.

"He's not so bad," Caitlin says shortly, not wanting to get into this topic. "He liked how my potion turned out. I was surprised! I liked Charms, too. That looks tricky, but fun! I can't wait to learn some of those spells he showed us." The other girls agree, wondering aloud what he'd have them start out with tomorrow. They finish lunch and run back down to their common room and to visit Caitlin's cat. After spending the last few minutes of their lunch break playing with the mewing little fluff ball, they swap out their books for the afternoon and head for History of Magic.

It's a double period, taking up the rest of the day, and the kindest thing any of the Hufflepuffs could say is that at least it's their last class of the day. Caitlin and her classmates fought to keep from dozing off, some of them tried to force themselves to be interested for the sake of it being the first day, and certain that in the right hands it could have been a stimulating class. However, any class taught by a ghost of a teacher who is as dull as Professor Binns would be an instant snooze-fest.

She'd forgotten about writing home last night, with all of the excitement, but Caitlin had been reminded at lunchtime when the flock of post owls swooped in with letters and packages for the students. After they got out of History of Magic, she scurried back to the common room with her classmates and found a free table to write at. Smiling to herself as she wrote with quill and ink on the thick yellow parchment, she recounted the previous day to her parents, inserting as many explanations as she could, but already finding that a lot of it seems perfectly normal. She wrote about her trouble about Houses, and all about her talk with Snape and her wonderful first Potions lesson, mentioned that she'd made a few friends already, and that she wished they could come and see her school. It takes up two sheets, front and back, by the time she's finished. She folds them up, stuffs it into an envelope and carefully addresses it. As an afterthought, she scribbles directions to return a reply with the owl if he'd let them. The older student who'd mentioned the Owlery, Lizzie Roberts, agreed to take her to mail her letter.

"Since my parents are Muggles, would it be still be okay for them to have an owl of their own, to make it easier to write?"

As they climb the winding stairs to the tower, Lizzie ponders. "You know, I'm not sure. We could ask Professor Sprout. She should be done with classes by now. We can find her on the way back in. I bet she's still finishing up in the greenhouses."

They reach the top and enter the airy room where the owls all live. Caitlin looks up at them all, amazed. "How do I get one down?"

"Just call it, they're free for any student to use."

Unsure of how to call an owl, she holds her letter up. "I need to send this to my parents, if any of you feel up to the trip." There's a rustle of wings and a dull wooden creak as a bird leaves his roost. A large tawny owl flies down. Just in time, Lizzie hisses "Hold your arm out!" and Caitlin obeys, giving the owl a place to land. She cringes in fright, waiting for its claws to sink in, but this owl is naturally familiar with young students, and holds on gently without digging in his talons. He takes the envelope in his beak with a muffled hoot. Caitlin tells him the address, and even starts giving an attempt at directions, with landmarks, when Lizzie stops her with a laugh.

"He knows what to do. It'll get there."

"How soon?"

They begin their descent through the trap door, Lizzie suggests, "Tomorrow, maybe next day. It depends on how far he has to fly and what the weather is like."

Together, they go down to the greenhouses to see Professor Sprout. She's clearing up after her last class of the day, hushing various plants in a soothing way to calm them after a rigorous day with new students. Lizzie heads back to the castle, leaving Caitlin with their Head of House.

"Miss Stand, how was your first day?"

"Fine, Professor," she answers politely. "I just wrote to my parents to tell them all about it, and I wondered if it would be okay for them to have an owl at home. So they can write without waiting for me to."

Professor Sprout wipes off her hands and gives the greenhouse one final look-around, then turns back to the young Hufflepuff. "I don't see why not. As long as they're discreet about it. They know the rules, don't they?"

Caitlin nods, fidgeting, "Professor Burbage told us that we're not allowed to do magic in front of Muggles, or tell them what we are. But...my parents know, does that count?"

"Well, that's one of the special circumstances. It's only recently been allowed for a witch or a wizard to be open about it to their spouse. When I was your age it would've had to be secret."

"That's too bad. I'm glad it's okay now, and that I don't have to keep secrets from my parents. They're glad I have a place here. So how do I get an owl for them?"

"Well, you could buy one at the pet shop in Diagon Alley, they're usually around ten to fifteen galleons. But I bet if you talked to Hagrid, the gamekeeper, he could let you have a school owl for less than that. And that way you wouldn't have to go to London to get it."

With a bright smile, Caitlin jumps in place, "Really? They'd love that!"

With a kind look, Professor Sprout is happy to have pleased this troubled new student so easily, watching as Caitlin skips down to Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She trusts that Professor Snape's warnings about the girl are valid, but for the life of her she can't see this child being angry or vengeful, and it seems she's already making friends. Perhaps at the weekend she can call her House together for some group activities. She wonders if the other Heads of House have ice-breaking rituals and regular activity nights for their students or if they just let them manage themselves. One of the best ideas she'd ever had, she recalls with a sneaky smile, was way back when she told a batch of new Hufflepuffs _not_ to sneak down to the kitchens. Many a "forbidden" House party had been held as a result of that order. The best way to get children to do something is to tell them it's off limits. As a result, generations of Hufflepuffs held pantry raids most weekends. With students like that, it's no wonder that in a thousand years, Hufflepuff House had never turned out a Dark witch or wizard. Caitlin will learn what her House is all about soon enough, Pomona thinks.

Slightly out of breath, Caitlin reaches Hagrid's house, and with a nervous gulp she knocks on the door. It opens and the hairy, friendly giant beams down at her. "Hello there! What's your name?"

"Caitlin, Caitlin Stand. Professor Sprout told me to ask you about buying an owl for my parents to use. They're Muggles, you see. I want them to be able to write to me if they want."

"Come on in, I don't bite. Neither does Fang," he assures her, holding the door open wider. A large black dog leaps out and greets her, jumping up to lick her face. She nudges him back down and looks all around the one-roomed building. It looks quite homey. She takes a seat in an enormous chair, reaching in her pocket to finger her wizarding coins, hoping she has enough. If not, she's not sure how to get her money in the bank at home converted and sent to her here. Hagrid pours her a cup of tea and gets out a hand-drawn book of all the owls kept in the tower. He goes through a few pages, rejecting ones that are too old or bad-tempered to be kept as a pet. He then brightens and taps one of them in approval. "This 'un should do fer yer folks. Friendly creature, sharp, an he's a beauty, ain't he?" He turns the book to show Caitlin the picture of the brown and white barn owl.

"Oh yes!"

"Name's Spectre, on account as he glides along so quiet-like. Appears right outta the blue like a ghost."

"How much does he cost?" Caitlin asks worriedly, clutching her change.

"Lessee. He was hatched about two year' ago, I don't think I could ask more than three galleons for 'im."

Gladly, Caitlin hands over her gold, glad that she has enough. "My parents will be so surprised! Thank you!"

"Yer a firs' year, aren't ya?"

"That's right. I really love it so far."

"Like any o' yer classes yet?"

"Oh, yes. Potions is my favorite. Everyone else is afraid of Professor Snape, but he's not as bad as they say. He was really nice to me."

"Tha's good, not many kids seem to like his class much," Hagrid observes. He'd often felt a bit of sympathy for the Potions Master, he didn't seem to have any friends among the staff, and nearly all of the students seemed to hate him year after year. True, he had a forbidding way about him, but to be so alone in the world as he seemed certainly didn't seem healthy. "Jus' do yer best and you'll be just fine," Hagrid advises. "I'll have yer owl when he gets back from delivery and you can send a letter along with him."

Caitlin finishes her tea, thanks him again, and scurries back to the castle. As she reaches the steps, she throws back her head and gazes at it. This castle, her home! Her school! It seems impossible to imagine that just a few weeks ago she was being terrorized by her classmates in squat, brick, Muggle school. She spreads out her arms as if in flight, absolutely enraptured by her new circumstances. _I'm going to be a witch!_ She can't seem to get over this fact, something that had been simply a given to a good portion of the students. Whenever she thinks this, she can't help be delighted. A few students caught sight of her from the windows, some rolled their eyes at the silly first year; Professor Sprout saw her on her way back in from the greenhouses, pleased to see the look of sheer joy on her face. Snape happened to glance up through the small window in his dungeon with a slight sneer, wondering what the girl could be so happy about. Then he remembered another eleven year old girl, one who was ready to be pleased with everything this new world had to offer...someone who saw the best in people. He stops this train of thought before he really twists the knife in, he will not allow himself to wallow in self-pity.

Caitlin bursts into the common room. "Susan, guess what! I got an owl for my mum and dad! They're going to be so surprised!"

"I bet! How to Muggles normally get their mail?" Susan wonders.

"Mail is collected at the post office and sent out to the right cities to their post office, and people deliver them. You know, I never really thought about that before, now that I do it sounds really complicated. I think I like owl post better!" Caitlin says decidedly.

"I think our way's better," Susan agrees, "I bet it's faster, too."

"But what happens if the owl gets lost or if someone else catches him?"

Susan and Caitlin find room for them on a cushy sofa. They set their books out to do their homework together later. "I don't think I've heard of them getting caught by the wrong person, but if they get lost the worst that happens is the letter arrives late. That hardly ever happens, though."

"What do people do once they graduate from here? What do your parents do?"

Susan riffles through her parchment and sets up her quills and ink to start on her History of Magic homework. "Well, my auntie raised me and she is a justice on the Wizengamot, that's our high court."

"Wow, that's neat. What happened to your parents?"

Susan looks uncomfortable, then leans in and whispers, "They got killed...by You Know Who."

"Who?"

Still grimacing, Susan can't bring herself to say the name. "Ask someone else, okay? I can't talk about it."

Caitlin cringes guiltily, worried that her flub cost her the first friend she'd had in a long time. "I'm sorry."

"Just forget it. One of the teachers can tell you, or someone older. Let's just get to work, okay?" Susan turns to her pile of homework, then pauses, as if remembering something suddenly. "You didn't do anything wrong, all right? I just don't like having to talk about it."

Still not understanding, Caitlin nods and pulls her books and parchment out of her bag. Having produced a decent cure for boils in Potions, she doesn't have an essay to write on where she went wrong, but her History of Magic homework makes her fall back in her seat, hating the class even more. Sulkily, she scratches out a summary of today's lesson. Both girls are now feeling better, and put their school things away for the evening and head down the Great Hall. Already, the strange and magical castle feels like home, like somewhere Caitlin belongs. As they sit down at their long table, Caitlin hears a bit of a commotion and looks up. There's that boy who got all that attention at the Sorting. People were standing up to stare at him, whispering loudly and pointing, just like they had the night before. "Showoff," she mutters, serving herself beef pot pie and mashed potatoes. Susan looks at her curiously.

"What do you have against him? That's Harry Potter."

"What's so special about him? Why does everyone act like they know him?"

Up at the staff table, Professor Snape catches her remarks with a grim smile, glad that not everyone is so spellbound over the Boy Who Lived. He watches as Caitlin is informed of The Legend of Harry Potter, sees understanding dawn on her face but it shifts back immediately to indifference. While the defeat of Lord Voldemort is most certainly a good thing, she obviously doesn't see any reason to treat him any differently. Snape hopes that others have a similar reaction to the pint-sized hero of the wizarding world. Then, having finished her dinner, Caitlin looks up at the head table, looks right at Snape himself and smiles. The potions master flinches, his lips twitch in an involuntary impulse to return it, which he immediately tamps down again. Still, the girl had touched something in him. He firmly tells himself he doesn't like it, and doesn't give a fig for her. Hufflepuff first year, what a joke! Still...she showed promise, and was wholly undaunted by his forbidding persona. Some students seemed to take him as a personal challenge, determined to make him like them. This one...this one simply seemed to _like him_.

Caitlin and her friends go back to the common room, each of them pleased in their own way about their first day of school. Caitlin runs off with her book bag and flops down on her bed with her sleek new potions book, reading up for the next lesson. She reads quietly by herself until lights-out, already completely at home in this strange world.

Two days later, she receives her first letter by owl from her parents. In the letter, they tell her how glad they both are that she likes school so much already, they thank her profusely for the owl, despite their previous misgivings and nervousness about the creature's sharp beak and claws, and fill her in on their small bits of news from home. They'd also sent a parcel of homemade oatmeal cookies to share with her friends. Things seem to be going well. Then-

Potions had been off to a decent start, they were brewing sleeping draught when the snobbish Ravenclaw girl, Jane Hubert, took up her spiteful attitude again. After being humiliated in their previous class, and finding out that she'd been shown up in points by a stupid Hufflepuff, she knew where to set her sights...

"Psst, Taran," she hisses loudly to her friend and desk partner. "That one there in front, next to the girl with the pigtails...is that a witch or a wizard?"

Caitlin hears, as Miss Hubert had intended, and flushes magenta. Her hair had been kept cut short since she could remember, probably because her mother thought a heavy mane of inevitable curls would be too much for her to handle. So she had a rather boyish haircut all her life. It was something she was already sensitive to.

"I don't know," Taran whispered back with a giggle, drawing Snape's gaze. "Ask!"

Doing her best to ignore them, Caitlin finishes her potion and pours a measure of it into a bottle to be graded. Snape acknowledges her with a blink and a curious expression on his lips. While Caitlin returns to her desk to clear up, Miss Hubert flicks bat spleen at her, splatting against her robes. Caitlin whips around, still red in the face with anger, and the two spiteful Ravenclaws are beside themselves with glee.

"That's a witch!" Jane wheezes with suppressed laughter. "I thought you were a boy! How'd you get so _ugly _?!"

That's as much as she can take. Caitlin's eyes fly wide open and out of her cauldron rises a pillar of fire! It frames her hate-fuelled rage with spectacular horror. Everyone springs away as Snape swoops in. With a wave of his wand, he extinguishes it. "Out! Out, everybody! Not you," he growls, catching Miss Stand by the shoulder. "And I'll deal with _you_ later, mark my words," he promises Jane and Taran. "You both receive detention for disrupting class as well."

Caitlin is coming down from that glorious high as she realizes what she'd done. She looks up at Snape and tears spill. She sobs hysterically as she cringes away.

"Clean up this mess," he orders darkly. "Do you realize you could have killed someone? You can't afford to lose control like that. And for what? A stupid Ravenclaw gets under your skin and all hell breaks loose.

She's on her knees, scrubbing away the scorch marks and the spilled potion. Luckily, there wasn't any real damage done, but her own cauldron will need a good scrub-down to get rid of the ashes. She's shaking with terror, both of her potions teacher and of herself.

"I didn't mean to," she gasps, sniffling.

Snape stands over her, thinking hard about something. "Your hair is too short, for a witch," he observes coolly. "Why do you cut it that way?"

"My mum does it. She doesn't think I could handle it."

This reasoning doesn't make a bit of sense. Snape shakes his head with a sigh, remembering how ridiculously his own mother had dressed him as a child. He almost smiles at their similarities. "After your classes today, I want you to come straight down here. You'll serve detention with me tonight for nearly blowing up the lab. You will come down here every night for the next week, including weekends, am I clear?"

"Y-you mean I'm not kicked out?"

"Not yet."

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

Despite the relief of not being expelled, she's late for Charms by a good 15 minutes. Luckily, Professor Flitwick had been informed of her accident and didn't mark her as tardy. During Charms, she and Susan exchange whispers, retelling the events of their Potions lesson.

"Detention all week? After those Ravenclaws dug into you like that?"

"I could've killed someone, Susan," Caitlin reminds her, it's obviously heavy on her conscience. "I lost control. A...a witch must always be a lady, unless circumstances dictate otherwise."

Enough quiet had settled in class that Professor Flitwick had clearly heard her personal axiom.

"Indeed, Miss Stand. As long as you learn your lesson, I'm sure it will turn out all right in the end."

They go down to lunch after Charms, Susan can tell her friend is still very upset by what happened. "It'll be okay. I would've done the same thing. Those girls think they're so special, like being super smart means they're better than us. You brewed the potion today right and you still had time to blow up your cauldron!" She and Caitlin laugh about this, but Caitlin's giggles are more than half terrified nerves.

"I'm just glad you're not scared of me," she confesses.

"Nah, that was kind of cool."

"Snape told me not to give into the pain, when people try to hurt me. He told me not to wallow in it and have dignity. Now I see why."

"He told you that? That...almost sounds nice," Susan says doubtfully.

"He's nice to me. I think...we're the same somehow. Maybe, he could've been like us, if he hadn't given in to his pain, and I could be like him if I do. I think he would've been a good Hufflepuff," Caitlin suggests.

From the head table, Snape is once again treated to Miss Stand's observations. How he managed to single her voice out of the hundreds of others is beyond him. He certainly isn't _trying_ to. Her highly controversial character study makes him sneer, angry at fate at large. How had this first year student gotten thrust into his class, one so like another from long ago. Able to...see the good in him. The thought nearly makes him throw up. He sees her catch his eye, looking sick with fright once again, and he then finds himself making a downplaying gesture, _calm down._

That's all it took to get her to stop thinking she was going to be killed. She flashes him a hopeful smile and actually waves. Snape groans to himself. Professor McGonagall looks at him strangely.

"What is it, Severus? That girl?"

"Caitlin Stand, Hufflepuff, capable potioneer with a dangerously short fuse. She's serving detention tonight after setting the lab on fire. She looked scared to death. I didn't want her thinking I was going to swallow her whole while everybody's back was turned."

Minerva smirks, "It's not like you to offer reassurance to the little hooligans. She actually smiled at you."

"Yes. I cannot for the life of me fathom why."

"You were kind to her," she softly says, now recognizing the name from an earlier conversation with the other heads of house after concerns of the girl's stability had been brought to light. "Pomona said you were wonderful with her on her first night, when she was upset about Houses. Sometimes that's all it takes. A little kindness can be the greatest magic there is." She sips from her goblet calmly before adding. "Dumbledore would disagree, I'm sure, he'd say it was love. But what is love besides kindness put into action?"

HP HP HP HP HP HP HP

that night, Snape is preparing his dungeon for his detention with Miss Stand, when he hears her voice ringing against the stone walls, badly off-key as usual but definitely with feeling-

"Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair,

down we plunge through the prison of my mind!

Down that path into darkness deep as Hell!"

She stops abruptly, completely ashen at seeing Snape already there. She thought she was early! Enough for a hideous musical interlude, perhaps. Her jaw hangs loose as she wonders what he's going to say about that.

"No singing," he bluntly informs her. "First, clean up your cauldron, it's still a mess from this morning. Then, we'll begin."

As she scrubs the ashes out of her cauldron, Snape is swooping in and out of his private store cupboard and the student supply closet, arranging ingredients and writing instructions on the blackboard. Occasionally, he glances in her direction. As her fear receded once again, he hears her humming to herself as she works. He sneers at her musical inclinations. Not only could she not carry a tune in a bag, she sounds far too confoundedly cheerful for being down here.

"Ready? Begin."

Caitlin looks up from her clean cauldron at the potion she's to make. It isn't named, so she has no clue what she's trying to make. It looks horribly complicated, and to fit to her schedule of detentions it takes a week from start to finish. She rolls up her sleeves and starts chopping roots, setting her cauldron over a low flame to soften them. Once she gets up a good head of steam, she looks up at Snape, uncertain if she is allowed to speak. Bravely, she tries.

"How did my sleeping draught turn out?"

"Adequately brewed," he answers shortly. _It might be enough even for me to get some sleep,_ he thinks hopefully. His dreams have been haunted for years, horrors lurking in every corner, victims of his terrible transgressions. He hasn't been able to sleep unassisted in what seems like ages.

"Professor? What can I do when kids do that to me again? What would you do?"

Ironic that this child sought his guidance. If she'd known exactly what he had done when faced with the same treatment...Still, if one can't be a good example, one must serve as a warning. "Their remarks were shallow and superficial. Personal appearance bears no weight in magical capability."

Strangely, Caitlin smiles at this. Neither of them would win a beauty contest, she's certain of that. Now that she thinks about it, outward beauty is a strange thing to judge someone by. As though that can tell you what sort of a person you are. Looking at her teacher makes her feel warm and soft all over, with a wonderful floating sensation when he looked back. She continues brewing, giving her potion a stir, checking the directions for what comes next.

"I really like Potions, it's my favorite class so far."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Snape drawls coldly, settling down to grade papers while she works.

"Oh, I'm not trying to suck up, I mean it. I've never been good at anything before. Do...do you think I'm good at this?" She asks, now worried that she'd overestimated herself.

"You show promise. If you can keep from having accidents in the future, calm your temper, you have the ability."

She adds a few strands of her own hair to the cauldron, watches it change color and bubble beautifully. "I can't wait to tell my parents about this. Well, maybe not the detention part, but I'd do this all day if I could."

Snape scowls over the heap of parchment. "If this is too pleasant for you, perhaps you can serve out your punishment another way," he warns. He then starts scribbling on the papers in red ink with gusto. Poor performers always gave him a certain amount of pleasure. There's nothing like taking them down a peg or two.

"Oh, no, sir. I know I'm being punished," Caitlin lies, "I'm missing common room activities for this."

"How dreadful," Snape remarks tonelessly.

For the rest of the week, Caitlin returns to the dungeon, keeping up with her mysterious potion and talking to Snape. She does most of the talking, but he's starting to come out of his shell with her. His scowl isn't quite as in place as it had been, his mocking tone doesn't have the same relish to it. At one point on their last day, the topic returns to the reason for her detention, and Snape abruptly leaves the room. He returns, robes a-billowing, with a small wooden box. He sets it on his desk, removes a key from a drawer, and opens it. He takes whatever is in it in his hand, looking from it to the young Hufflepuff. He sets it down on her desk. It's a small, clear, pointed purple-tinted crystal with a pinch of tiny brown specks embedded in it. It's bound in a curling twist of copper, looped to be threaded onto a chain or ribbon.

"Wear that. It will help you remain calm, so your incident doesn't happen again."

Caitlin stares at it, "What is it?"

"It's a charm. Examine it, tell me what you see."

She looks at it closely, "Those look like seeds."

"What kind?"

Caitlin reaches down into her bag and withdraws One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, compares it to several pictures. Some are close, but not quite right, then...

"Mustard seeds. Protection, courage. This is for me?"

Snape grunts what might be a "yes" before examining her finished product. "That...looks just about right. Now, turn around, so your back is to your cauldron and take off your hat."

Thinking these instructions sounded rather odd, Caitlin obeys. She gasps aloud as Professor Snape seizes her by the shoulders and duck her into the pot! He pulls her out again, dripping and shocked. She still has no clue what kind of potion she just brewed and now...

"Now rinse," he commands, pointing her to the stone gargoyle basin in the wall. Shivering, she ducks her head into the cold, clean water awaiting her. She feels a tingling in her scalp. She comes back up and Snape points his wand at her, sending out a jet of warm air. Caitlin is now dry and warm once again, but still very confused. Then she sees... In the back of one of the metal spoons hanging from the wall, she sees her reflection. Her hair... She runs her fingers through it, it's grown out to chin-length and falls in ringlets. She looks up at Snape in amazement.

"Well, it's a start. At least you won't be mistaken for a wizard anymore. A witch must be a lady,"

Compulsively, Caitlin finishes on top of him, "Unless circumstances dictate otherwise."

Snape flinches, they give each other identical odd looks. Caitlin is the first between them to brave the strange waters. "How did you know that expression?"

"Something a friend would say, back when I was a student,"he murmurs softly, sounding as though he'd seen a ghost. Suddenly angry at the memory, with that he points her out of his dungeon.


End file.
